Ordinary Morning
by knowhere
Summary: Literati. In a morning like any other, she watches him sleep. It’s nothing remarkable, just him and her…together. AU.


**Ordinary Morning**

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Pg-13

Disclaimer: Nothing.

AN: Just something to help my brain settle down. What better time than now, huh Asa?

Enjoy!

Summary: Literati. In a morning like any other, she watches him sleep. It's nothing remarkable, just him and her…together. AU.

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His breathing is even, the slow steady rise and fall of his chest tells me so. It's these early morning moments when I am finally given the opportunity to observe him as he really is. He's so guarded during the day, even when it's just the two of us doing whatever, there's an edge to him that can't be removed even if he tried. And he wouldn't do such a thing. I would never ask him to. It's who he is. He's a force that's undeniable, a trait that's just his alone. I wouldn't want him to change anyways.

There's always a bit of calculation in his eyes, like a hunter stalking his prey, or the thief who enters a store and sizes up the angles and possibilities, or even the artist who looks at the world each day and sees a potential masterpiece. It's nothing good or bad, just the _reality_ of his personality. It's also the reality of being with him. It's something I've learned to accept and understand that it's just who he is.

My eyes take in the sight of him, feeding on each available inch. He never sleeps on his stomach, says it gives him a stiff neck. A heavy sleeper, the alarm doesn't do any good in all its vain attempts to wake him each morning. But there's something contradictory in his sleeping patterns. When I vacate the bed, he somehow knows immediately and begins to wake. I've asked him about this once, and he shrugged it off. I thought, and still think, that in a way, it's wildly romantic. But I don't tell him. If I did, he'd just smirk at me and probably make some innuendo. I like to keep it as my secret.

His hair is an incredible mess. The only cure is a hot shower each morning in order to tame his cowlicks. That's something he hates, his cowlicks. It's something the average observer wouldn't see, but he has them and I think it's adorable. I remember his hair being curlier when we were younger, and oddly enough, it's straightened a bit over the years. I don't give it much thought, knowing that either way, he groans every time I run my hands through his hair as I kiss him. Do it right, and it turns him on like nothing else.

There aren't many things that turn him on. Something that took me a while to realize. Sure, he's an average male that gets a direct response below the belt when he sees someone pretty walk by, but it takes much more to really _arouse_ him. Touch has more of an effect than sight, contrary to what some people might think. A delicate, feather-like touch drives him crazy with desire, but if I used a direct touch it sends him around the bend and pushes him over the edge. I've learned to alternate and to listen to his sighs and groans. His neck is particularly sensitive and it's an area not to be missed when we fool around.

He's a generous man, a personality trait that's most easily missed when you don't know him. There are many things that are misunderstood about him, and the fact that he's generous is by far at the top of the list. People mistake it for sarcasm and angst because he's so private. I know better. He guards things close to his heart: secrets, quirks, and…me. His generosity is shown in the little things. He makes me lunch to take to work, always lets me shower first and never complains if I've used too much of the hot water. He always lets me step through a door first, but doesn't always reach to open it for me. He's gentle when he touches me, something that shows just how much he loves me. Now that he's grown up, he's never made me feel unworthy or given me any cause to doubt his intentions in our relationship.

He's shifting in his sleep and I pause in my thoughts. The crisp white cotton sheets are twisted around his torso, circling olive skin. He has a scar on his abdomen. He had his appendix taken out as a kid. After our first night together, we had stretched out and explored each other's bodies in the dim light. The windows were open, traffic noise slipping in between murmurs, the cool breeze tickling our bare skin. I traced the lines of his body and stopped when I noticed a line that was just a shade lighter than the rest of him. I asked what it was and he told me that one night when he was eleven, his mom had to rush him to the emergency room because his appendix had ruptured. It's a delicate scar, not angry in the least, and I traced it with the very tip of my forefinger. He watched and smiled. Later, as I followed the path with my tongue, his head fell back onto the bed and his fingers tangled into my hair.

He's never worn a shirt to bed, not even in the coldest of nights. We crank up the heat and bundle ourselves in blankets, but he's never worn anything but his boxers. Sometimes, not even them. It took me a while to get used to the idea that he was so comfortable being naked. Jess is just a man who's comfortable in his own skin. There really isn't anything else about him that's more appealing to me than that. When he's being serious and his cocky smile is gone, he's just a man who's secure with who he is. He understands his faults and downplays his strengths, but he's never really itched to be someone else. He's wanted things in the past he couldn't have, but he's never wanted to be anyone but him. Even in his lowest of times, he's never once said that he wished he could trade lives with someone. It's something that I admire in him.

One thing everybody knows about him is that he loves to read. It's a no brainer when people describe him. Even in that, they don't quite get it. They think he reads because he wants to escape whatever problems he has, and in a way, it's true. It was a coping mechanism he used as a kid, and sometimes he retreats into those fictitious worlds. But words were his first love. He learned he could fall for a string of words bound together in ink and pages. He loves to read because he knows it's something he's good at. He's good at absorbing the letters, and reshaping them into his own. He makes every book he's ever read his own by adding something to it. It's nothing tangible, but it's just something he does. Some people were surprised when they found out he writes for a living. I was not one of them. Words are his _strength_; he's able to mold them and strike them with an emotion that's raw and unbridled.

Jess has quirks. Something he vehemently denies. But it's true. He reads directions to practically everything, from the instant macaroni and cheese, to the shampoo bottle. He's incapable of making the bed in the morning, but he never fails to do so before we sleep. It's absurd and I've often commented on it. He makes the bed right before we get in. He diligently tucks in hospital corners and fluffs our pillows at night. Ask him to do it in the morning, and he'll very conveniently _forget_. It's turned into one of our inside jokes these days. I used to be frustrated at his weird justification of why he makes the bed at night. Now, every once in a while I ask him to do it when we wake up and he pretends not to hear me. He's able to tune out any noise he doesn't want to hear, but with the slightest sound out of the ordinary, his ears perk. He likes juice in the middle of the night when he gets thirsty, but never milk or water. Coffee isn't something he drinks, despite all my attempts to convert him, but he guzzles tea by the gallon. He always sits with his legs crossed Indian style when he's at his desk typing, but never admits it. He likes to people watch and can sometimes loose track of hours sitting on a park bench or some random café downtown.

He's shifting his weight again and edges closer to my body. He doesn't snore. A trait that I'm ever so grateful for. When he's especially tired or overwhelmed, he talks in his sleep. Nothing of consequence, he's never said anything that made sense, but I find it so comical. It's usually just a phrase or two, never much, but he always says he doesn't have a single recollection of it happening. One time I've gone as far as trying to talk to him while he's speaking in his sleep. I didn't get anywhere though. He just repeated something about needing to get the morning paper from the elephant. I giggled and just snuggled into him.

He's squinting up at me, sticky eyes opening in the morning light. "What are you doin'?"

I smile. "Nothing."

"Uh huh." He doesn't believe me. Reaching out, he pulls me into his warmth. "You watching me sleep again?"

I cock my head to the side. "How did you know I do that?"

He smirks. "Just something I've picked up. You do it every once in a while."

I furrow my brows and repeat my question. "How did you know?" And here I thought I was always so stealthy.

"You think it's a coincidence that I just _happen_ to wake up after about ten minutes?"

I nudge his shin beneath the covers. "Faker! You knew!"

He chuckles. "I think it's cute you suck at being sneaky." Leaning over, he kisses me quickly, mouth closed. "Tell me, what do you think about?"

I blush for reasons I can't pinpoint. "None of your business."

"Oh? Is that so?" He takes in the flush and smirks. "Seems like it has an effect on you." Lips brushing the shell of my ear, "I think watching me sleep makes you want me."

I pull back and look incredulously at him. He's smiling broadly and I know he's just teasing me. "You wish." I playfully hit his shoulder.

He pretends to think it over. "Yeah, I do."

I smile and let the subject drop. "Your hair's a mess." I let my eyes roam his features.

"So is yours."

"Shower?"

He nods. "I'll meet you there." He throws the covers off and begins to pad his way to the bathroom.

Getting out as well, I smooth down the duvet. Arranging it so that it doesn't look like a horrible jumble, I ask, even though I know the answer. "Hey, you wanna help me with the bed?"

He turns and smirks. "I'm sorry, what?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Just get in the shower, will ya?"

"As you wish."

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**AN: **Review please…


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